


Daddy

by imherecauseimnotallthere98



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Child Abuse, Child on Child Sexual Abuse, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Crying, Forced Masturbation, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Abuse, Half-Sibling Incest, Molestation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Supportive Sam Winchester, Trans Male Character, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8613271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imherecauseimnotallthere98/pseuds/imherecauseimnotallthere98
Summary: “Sometimes I tell myself I’m okay. I repeat it, like a mantra.I’m okay,I’m okay,I’m okay,I’m okay.Because I’m afraid if I stop, even for a moment, I will drown in all the reasons I am not.”-Unknown





	

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning. Read the tags. Title is taken from a Korn song with the same name. Trigger warning for the same things if you decide to listen to it
> 
> There is no Sam/Dean in here if that's what you're looking for
> 
> There is no explicit rape or underage here, just references to it.

The hunt had been horrible right from the start. We’d gotten a tip from a local hunter who lived a state over about something attacking men between the ages of fifteen and twenty and leaving them naked and covered in some kind of goo. He’d described it as looking like ‘a mix between ectoplasm, afterbirth, and mud’. Normally he’d have dealt with it on his own, but he had been called away as backup for a vamp nest, and he needed to leave immediately. The hunt had sounded a little weird, but initially nothing had jumped out as triggering, so I’d agreed to go with the guys.

Jobs that were close by were always better anyway. The shorter the car ride the better. Whenever I could I just followed behind Dean’s Impala in my own truck, or I offered to meet them there. Neither of the brothers understood it, saying we were all going to the same place, so why waste the gas? I told them I liked having my own truck with me in case I needed to go anywhere while they had the car. I couldn’t tell them that being trapped in a confined space with men, especially two men as big as them, was uncomfortable on a good day and terrifying on a bad one. There was no way for me to explain it to them without it sounding like I didn’t trust them or like I was scared of them. It honestly wasn’t like that at all. I trusted them with my life, and I never once thought they might hurt me. At least, not on purpose. But that didn’t matter to my piece of shit brain. It would just spout off horror situations non-stop, pointing out all the ways I was completely helpless in the back of that car, until I had to beg Dean to pull over so I could ‘pee’. Really it was so I could calm down and make myself breathe normally again.

But my truck was currently up on jacks in the bunker garage, and as much as I didn’t want to be stuck with the guys in the car, I wanted to be alone at the bunker even less.

Once we got to town, Dean stopped at the coroner’s office, and dug through the fake ID’s until he found the ones him and Sam wanted. I caught a glance of the badges. They were going FBI on this one. I didn’t have any fake ID’s, being a trans guy meant that even as an eighteen year old, I still looked and sounded fourteen. No one would believe I was a reporter, let alone FBI. I’d played the distraught nephew a couple times when I could, but that was about it. Mostly I had to rely on Sam and Dean to relay whatever information they got back to me later.

Dean turned around in his seat and told me to go find a motel and check in. By the time I got back they would be done here.

It was still a shock and a huge thrill to be able to drive the Impala. It had taken a ton of coaxing the first time, but after I’d proven to be an overly cautious driver, Dean had sometimes let me make short trips when it was more convenient. The chance to get behind the wheel almost made bearing the drive out here worth it.

I found a cheap motel between the coroner’s and the dump site for the bodies. Just like every other time, I thought about getting two rooms. Logically I knew it was actually less safe that way, not to mention a waste of money, but I wanted my own space. Still, just like every other time, I got one room with two queens, and I asked the manager to move a cot in there. I knew as soon as he saw it, Dean would offer to take the cot, which I would decline, saying that Dean always slept closest to the door. Which would then prompt Sam to offer, and I would tell him he was too big for the cot. Truth be told, I didn’t mind it. It was small and hard, but I could move it into a corner and sleep with my back to a wall, unlike the two beds that came with the room, which both sat in the middle.

My job during the hunt was basically research and emergency backup. I could fire a gun and wield a knife okay, but I sucked at hand to hand stuff, unless it turned to wrestling, in which case I could generally hold my own. Still, I was a pretty shitty hunter. Good for salt and burn cases, but not someone to send up against a wendigo or shifter.

Anyway, as the researcher, I made sure that Dean and Sam always told me absolutely everything they learned, even if it didn’t seem relevant. So when I picked them up at the coroner’s, I was ready for the info they’d found, ready to file it away for back at the motel. What I wasn’t ready for, was when we got to the “I don’t know if this is important, but” phase, and Dean bluntly stated that the coroner said all the male victims had been raped in the hours before their deaths. Thankfully, from my position in the backseat, neither brother could see my face go pale and my hands start to tremble. I felt like my chest was being crushed, and there wasn’t enough air in the world to fill my lungs.

Thankfully, I had tons of practice dealing with panic attacks, and I could pretty much have one right in front of someone without them knowing. I rolled down my window and forced myself to take slow, deep breathes and think of nothing until my heart stopped racing.

When we got back to the motel, I grabbed my laptop and went to sit on the cot that would be mine for the next couple days. Leaning back against the wall, I stuck in my earbuds, blasting the first thing on my iPod as loud as I could stand it. Partially to try and tune out my thoughts, but also in a clear “don’t talk to me” position towards the brothers. They didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong, but that made sense. I usually listened to music while I worked, it helped keep me focused. If Sam or Dean had any theories to run past me, or any new info, they would just wave to catch my attention until I pulled out a bud.

I’d designed a kind of filter system based off the men of letters library, and the books Dean had acquired from Bobby’s secret stashes. Basically I tagged each monster with identifiers. Who they went after, what signs they left, location, etc. That way, I just had to look up the tags that appeared in the hunt we were on, and if we were lucky, it would give us the monster we were after and the best way to kill it.

The system was far from perfect. There were lots of monsters I hadn’t catalogued yet, and certain monsters who were always different. Ghosts for example. They shared a few common traits, but the way each one operated was different, and what would stop them was sometimes not as simple as burning the bones.

I must have been pretty distracted, because I didn’t even know Sam had walked over to me until I felt a heavy hand touch my shoulder to get my attention. I jumped hard, practically throwing myself into the wall to my left before I could stop myself. I didn’t like being touched, and if it wasn’t expected or initiated by me, it could scare the hell out of me. Neither brother really knew this, since neither of them were that touchy-feely and the issue had never really come up. On the very rare occasions they had touched me, a hand on the shoulder or a foot accidentally brushing against mine under a table, I’d been able to control myself and move away calmly. Ninety percent of the time I stayed out of their reach anyway, usually keeping at least five feet between us.

Sam clearly wasn’t expecting my reaction. when I looked up at him, I saw he’d taken a couple steps back and raised his hands as if in surrender. I was terrified of what I would see on his face. Anger or disappointment maybe. I’d let him sneak up on me, and then I’d reacted out of panic, rather than hunter instilled instincts. But Sam just watched me calmly. He looked maybe a little worried, but there was no judgement there. I glanced across the room at the table Dean was sitting at. He had seen the whole thing, and was looking a little confused, but he didn’t say anything.

Slowly, I reached up and pulled my ear buds out.

“Sorry.” I said to Sam. I could feel my face heating up in a blush, and it made me duck me head. “Sorry. I just...” I just what? What could I say? Sorry I just can’t handle things normal people wouldn’t even blink at because I’m a pathetic piece of shit? Sorry I just jump at everything like a five year old when I’m supposed to be a calm, levelheaded hunter? Sorry I just keep making you guys put up with me? “Sorry.” I said again, lost for anything more complicated to say.

I could see they both analyzing me, running my reaction over in their minds and trying to figure it out. Comparing it to my past reactions to see if this had happened before, and trying to guess why it had happened. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t sit there and watch them pick at my psyche and tear it apart in an effort to find the truth. I set my laptop down and grabbed my duffle bag on my way towards the bathroom.

“I’m gonna shower.” I said over my shoulder, not looking back to see their reactions. Neither of them said anything, and I rushed to the bathroom before they could. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until the door was shut and locked behind me. Then, finally feeling safe, I sighed and leaned against the sink, refusing to look at myself in the mirror.

***

I took way longer in the shower than I needed to. At first I had simply stood under the weak spray, and forced myself to breath and calm down. But then I needed a reason to stay in there longer, and I needed something to do. I washed my hair, scrubbing for long minutes and rinsing it even longer. My hair was short, barely more than a buzz cut, but I washed it like it was still waist length. Next I scrubbed down by body with a washcloth provided by the motel, carefully cleaning everywhere, and forcing my mind to stay blank as I washed my chest. I’d gotten lucky, I knew. Trans and unable to bind, I was fortunate enough to be blessed with a tiny chest that couldn’t even fill an A cup. A good sports bra and baggier shirts kept me looking manly enough.

Next I washed myself down with soap. The washcloth would have been more than enough, since I’d showered last night and hadn’t done anything since then, but I needed to feel clean. I never would, I knew. No mater how long I scrubbed, I’d always feel tainted. But still, each time I showered I tried to finally rub that feeling off, as if it were a second skin I could peel away with enough work, rather than a feeling that sunk deep into my muscles and bones.

Once every inch of me had been scrubbed and washed and rinsed under almost straight hot water until my skin was pink, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist. I used the hand towel to dry my hair and face with one hand, while I ruffled through my duffle the other for a clean pair of jeans and a fresh shirt. I’d only been wearing the clothes I’d changed out of for a couple hours, but I still decided to throw them in the laundry bag.

I pulled out a full new set of clothes, boxers and bra included, then I grabbed my toothbrush and paste. My short hair was dry now, and I tossed the hand towel onto the sink counter. I spent another five minutes brushing my teeth until my gums started to hurt. With that done, I grabbed a pair of nail clippers and started in on my fingers. My nails were always so short there was barely any white showing, but I still managed to cut away a little more, including some of the hard skin around them.

By the time I was done, I knew I’d been in the bathroom for at least forty minutes. Long enough I’d air dried, and the steam had all but evaporated. The first time I’d done that, Dean had made some comment about using up all the hot water while I was jacking off. I hadn’t laughed, or had a comeback. I hadn’t even been able to mutter a playful “fuck you”, which was clearly weird to the brothers, since I was usually ready with some burn or sassy comeback to most of Dean’s teasing. The fact I’d just gone back to work had clearly confused him. Since then neither of them commented on my shower habits.

Dressed and as clean as I could get, I looked around the bathroom for anything else to keep me in there longer. I hung my towel back up to dry, put the hand towel back on it’s hook, straightened the shower curtain, and carefully folded the clothes I’d been wearing, even though they would go right into the laundry bag.

Finally, with nothing more to justify staying in here, I unlocked the door and entered the motel room again. I stared at the floor until I could reach my cot and iPod. Quickly, before anyone could say anything, I put my earbuds back in and pressed play. Korn started playing, and I made myself focus on the opening guitar rift of Coming Undone.

The laundry bag was sitting near the bathroom door, and I crossed back over to dump my clothes in it, still staring at the ground to avoid any conversations. With my clothes dealt with, I went back to my cot and shuffled up against the wall, further into the corner this time, and pulled my laptop back over. It had shut off in my absence, and I waited for it to boot back up. While the screen loaded, I risked a quick glance up. Dean was gone, but Sam was still there. He’d taken Dean’s spot sitting at the table, and even though he had he own laptop out and open, he was looking at me.

Quickly I averted my eyes, focusing back on my screen until Coming Undone had ended. I must have had my iPod set on my Korn playlist, because it was replaced by Freak On a Leash. I tried to let the music distract me, but I could still feel those hazel puppy eyes on me. It was making my squirm uncomfortably. I tried to always stay small and quiet, as unnoticeable as possible. For most of my life it had worked. I’d made it through high school with most of the teachers barely knowing my name.

In the bunker I mostly stayed in my room, or in a back corner of the library. Plus I had done a little exploring and I knew about a couple hiding places that I was pretty sure even the brothers hadn’t found yet. Some of them you had to be pretty small to reach, and my five foot four frame could manage those a lot better than my six foot giant friends. If I played it right, I could go a couple days without seeing anyone, other than maybe running into Dean in the kitchen. But here, in a bare motel with just me and Sam, I was a point of focus. There was nothing and no one to take the attention off of me, and I couldn’t exactly hide.

I could still feel him watching me, and I was starting to grow annoyed. What right did he have to be staring at me like that? To be trying to analyze me when I clearly didn’t want him to know why I was this way?

I tried to ignore him, going back to my program and entering a few tags to start off with. I always started with something vague, and then if I had a lot of results come up I would filter it down. So I typed in oil and rape into my search bar, grinding my teeth as a did. My chest was feeling heavy again. Not like I couldn’t breathe, but like if I did I might start crying. I hated that feeling, especially because I didn’t have the emotional energy to actually cry, so I would just sit there and feel myself imploding.

I looked up again, and sure enough I was met by those concerned, hazel eyes.

“What?” I finally snapped, pulling one earbud out so I could listen to his answer, but also not giving the impression I wanted to have some big conversation.

Sam didn’t react to my outburst like I thought he would. He didn’t get defensive, or tease me for being moody like Dean did. Actually, Dean hadn’t done that in a long time. Before either of the brothers had known I was trans, Dean used to ask if I was on my period on the days I was sulky or moody. The last time it had happened, he’d picked the wrong time of the month, and I’d snapped at him and said that yes, as a matter of fact I was, and I would appreciate not being reminded of that. Dean had looked incredibly confused, but understanding had dawned on Sam’s face. The next hour had been full of explanations from me and Sam, and questions from Dean I’d answered to the best of my ability. Once or twice he’d asked something offensive, like if I had a dick, or what my ‘real name’ was. Sam had slapped him on the shoulder each time. Since then, he’d been fine. He maybe called me ‘dude’ or ‘man’ more than was really necessary, but I knew that was just him trying to be supportive, so I appreciated it.

Anyway, like I said, Sam didn’t tease me for my outburst. If anything, he gaze softened even further. It pissed me off in a way. I wanted him to be mad at me, or to tease me. If he did that, then I could be mad at him, and then I could have a break from this nagging self doubt that was constantly hanging over me. When I was mad, everything I felt seemed justified to me. I was confident in my actions and reactions. But I didn’t know what to do with this calm acceptance. Somehow it was worse.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked gently, in that tone I’d heard him use when he was talking to little kids who’d just seen a real monster.

“Don’t use that fucking voice on me,” I snapped. “You’re talking to me like I’m gonna break down any second.”

Sam raised his hands in surrender again, ducking his head a little. I was about to put my earbud back in when he started talking again.

“I know you’re stronger than that,” he said, still somewhat with that tone. “I’m just worried about you.”

“Jesus fuck, let it go.” I sighed. “You just surprised me, okay? I’m fine.”

Sam chuckled a little.

“Yeah, okay, Dean.” he teased.

I had to duck my head at that. I knew I was acting like Dean right now, getting defensive and moody. That wasn’t normally me. In fact, I was usually more open to talking than Sam or Cas. It was just when the topic got too personal that I started getting weird. Usually I’d just make jokes of change the subject, but if it was something really bad, I’d get pissy. Sam knew that, and now I’d given away the fact that I was not okay. Fuck. I sighed.

“What do you want?” I asked, my tone lighter this time.

“I want to know if you can handle this hunt.” Sam said. It wasn’t exactly blunt, but it was far from subtle.

“What do you mean?” I asked. ‘Handle the hunt’ as in by myself?

“I mean, do you want me and Dean to take care of this one? Ever since you picked us up at the coroner’s you’ve been acting off. You didn’t say a thing in the car, usually you’re bursting with theories as soon as we give you the info.”

I didn’t say anything to that. Fuck, sometimes I forgot who I was living with. The Winchesters picked up on even the slightest change in anyone they knew. Mostly it was so they knew if someone was possessed or replaced by a shifter, but it had perks like knowing exactly when someone wasn’t coping.

“Look,” Sam started. “You don’t have to tell me why this job is different for you if you don’t want to, okay? But if you can’t handle it, me and Dean can take care of it without your help. You can stay here, or we can get you another room, and you don’t have to be involved in this hunt.”

“I’m-”

“Don’t say you’re fine.” Sam interrupted. “I know you aren’t, and that’s alright. It’s okay not to be okay.”

I was about to say I was fine again, when I looked down at my screen and saw the results my program had pulled up. Only one monster fit the profile. I read through the notes that had come up.

 

Orang Minyak

-According to one legend the orang minyak was a man who was cursed in an attempt to win back his love with magic. Another legend says the devil offered to help the creature and give him powers of the black arts, but only if the orang minyak worshipped him and raped 21 virgins within a week. Yet another says it is under control of an evil shaman or witch doctor.

-According to legend the orang minyak lived mainly around several Malaysian towns. It is described as humanoid, naked and covered with black oil to make it difficult to catch. Some legends suggest it is invisible to non-virgins. It is said biting its left thumb and covering it in batik is a way to protect yourself from it.

-Sightings of the orang minyak, or events later ascribed to it, have continued with reduced frequency into the 2000s.

-There have been cases reported of rapists covered in oil roaming around, armed with knives.

-This creature, in its general nature, behaviour and supposed origin would seem to be very similar to the Grease devil of Ceylon.

 

Now I started to feel like I couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest, and my throat was closing. I felt dizzy, and it took a moment for me to realize I was hyperventilating. I tried, but I couldn’t stop. There wasn’t enough air and no matter how much I breathed in it still felt like I was suffocating. I vision was starting to go black around the edges and my stomach clenched like I was gonna puke. I couldn’t BREATHE! The room was spinning and there wasn’t enough air and I needed to get out NOW.

I rushed past Sam and out the front door of the motel, where I bent over prepared to throw up. The sun was blinding after the relative darkness I’d been in, but I barely noticed. Sam followed me out the door, and I could see him standing next to me. His hand lifted at if to rub my back or something, but I saw him quickly pulling it back before he touched me. I wanted to thank him, but I still felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“Hey,” Sam called, trying to get my attention. He stepping in front of me so I had to look at him. His voice sounded muffled and distant, like I was underwater, but I could read lips well enough to see him saying my name.

“Hey,” he tried again, and this time I could hear him. “Hey, come on back now. I need you to match your breathing to mine, okay?”

I nodded, unable to do anything else. I watched his chest expand and contract slowly, and forced myself to echo the movement. It took a couple minutes, but I eventually felt myself calming back down. My hearing and vision became normal again. I still felt sick, but the I’m-gonna-puke-any-second feeling was going away.

“You wanna go back inside?” Sam asked gently. This time the soothing, little kid voice wasn’t too annoying. I nodded and forced my weak legs to carry me back inside.

Sam sat back down at the table. I didn’t really want to be that close to him, but I didn’t think I could make it back to my cot either. I sat down in the chair across from him, nudging it a little further back to give me some extra space.

“Can you tell me what freaked you out?” he asked after a minute, his tone calm but cautious, like he was worried asking about it might trigger another panic attack. I pointed tiredly to my laptop, still sitting on my cot. Sam followed my finger, and got up to go grab the computer. I was struck with the sudden realization my iPod was still playing, and I still had an earbud in. I thought about taking it out, but the music was giving me something to focus on, so I left it. It was still going through my Korn albums, and a cover of Brick In The Wall was playing.

Sam was walking back towards the table slowly, reading my program as he went. I could see him comparing the hunt to the result my research had yielded, while at the same time he was trying to figure out why it had freaked me out.

“Have you ever dealt with one of these things before?” he asked, clearly a little at a loss.

I shook my head. Briefly, I thought about telling him everything. Just opening up and letting all my demons spill out onto the floor in a glorious disarray. At least then I wouldn’t have to carry that heavy mess around in my chest anymore. But the thought was fleeting, and I decided to go with our most recent problem.

“It’s going after people between fifteen and twenty years old.” I stated, as if that should clarify everything. Sam was still frowning at me.

“Yeah,” Sam said slowly. “But they have to be virgins too, so we’re all safe. Me and Dean are too old, and you...” he trailed off then, and I could see the exact moment things clicked into place for him. “Wait, you’re still- You never...?”

I shook my head.

“Really?” he asked, his eyebrows had risen until his bangs blocked them.

“Sam, in the two years we’ve known each other, have I EVER talked about getting laid? Have I ever once been gone over night? Have you ever even seen me talk to people outside of what’s necessary for a hunt?

I could see the wheels turning as he ran the last twenty months over in his head.

“I just thought you were more subtle about it.” he said finally. “But you’re, like, easily more dirty minded than Dean. I think sometimes YOU make HIM uncomfortable!”

I shook my head again.

“I’m not uneducated, just inexperienced.” I told him, maybe a little defensively.

He nodded, and I could see he was thinking.

“Okay...” he said slowly. “Okay. So me and Dean will keep you close. You’ll have one or both of us around at all times. We won’t let you... we won’t let THAT happen.” he said, swallowing uncomfortably.

“Little late.” I mumbled, way too low for Sam to have heard.

He was already reading through my notes again.

“This doesn’t say anything about killing.” Sam said after a while. “It says it... ATTACKS it’s victims, but it doesn’t say anything about killing them.”

I nodded. I thought about that too.

“Maybe it’s more convenient.” he suggested. “Like they all recognized him and he wanted to make sure they wouldn’t draw attention back to him.”

“Then he should have let them live.” I said, before I could stop myself.

Sam frowned at me, clearly not understanding what I was talking about. I knew I needed to clarify, but I felt like I was already on thin ice. This was verging into territory that had a lot of bad potential for me, and I needed to be careful.

“What?” Sam asked, when I didn’t say anything at first.

“All these guys are eighteen and under. About one in every four girls and one in every six boys will be sexually assaulted in that time.” I explained. “That doesn’t necessarily mean rape, but it does mean unwanted sexual contact of some kind. Think about it. How many guys are gonna talk about something like that?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. Almost none. “If he didn’t want to draw attention, leaving them alive would have been better. Odds are most of these guys never would have reported it. Especially since it was a monster. Who would have believed them?”

Sam was looking at me now, analyzing me again. I didn’t like it. I could see that he was about to ask something else, when the door behind me opened and Dean walked through. I jumped at the noise, but I managed to hide it by using the momentum to stand up. I quickly walked back over to my cot and picked up my phone, as if that had been the plan all along.

“Hey.” I greeted Dean before Sam could ask whatever he’d been about to. “We know what this thing is.” I said. I knew that would take control of the conversation and safely steer it away from me.

I barely listened while Sam explained it to Dean, lining up the facts with what we knew about the orang minyak. Dean nodded along, agreeing with my research. Apparently he’d gone to the crime scene and spoken with the detective. He said that other than the goo, which we now knew was oil and maybe something else from the monster, it seemed like a human attack and murder. Cause of death for all of the victims so far was strangulation.

I tuned out again, listening to my music, until I heard my name. I focused back on Sam, who was explaining to Dean why I was in danger on this hunt. I watched the oldest brother turn a shocked look on me.

“Dude, no WAY you still got your cherry.” he laughed. “Not with the shit you say.”

“Though we might all aspire to it, Dean, not all of us have reached the level of whoredom you’ve mastered.” I said flatly. 

“I never thought you were a WHORE,” Dean laughed. “I just thought, you know, you’re eighteen. I lost mine way before that.”

“Yeah? That’s sad, I thought you were saving yourself for Cas. Or do you still have your ass cherry?” I deflected. Thankfully it worked. Dean turned bright red and left the topic of my sexual inexperience alone. But I knew that now Sam was zeroed in on me. I’d already gotten moody once today after he touched me, and now I’d given him a more precise hint as to exactly what my problem was. The only time I was mean enough to embarrass Dean like that was when he struck a nerve. I knew Sam was watching me now, but I ignored it. He’d at least have enough tact not to bring it up in front of Dean.

***

We spent the rest of the day brainstorming how to track it and kill it. Timidly, I offered to be bait, since I fit the right criteria and if the lore was right, I was the only one who’d be able to see it, but both brothers adamantly refused. I tried not to show my relief.

Later that night, once we’d decided that decapitation should do it, with an iron blade just in case, Dean said he was going out. This thing attacked every two days, so we’d have to wait until tomorrow night to go after it anyway. He left me and Sam the Impala, saying he was just gonna walk to the bar a couple blocks away, and that he probably wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. He winked at me as he said it, and even though I knew he was teasing me, I couldn’t help the discomfort that it invoked in me. Dean oozed sexual charm, anyone could see that, and sometimes he was just... a bit too much.

As soon as he left I went and grabbed my iPod again, plugging in an earbud to make sure Sam knew I wasn’t into talking. I grabbed my laptop and started going through my unread emails. Most were junk but some were from other hunters looking for or exchanging into on different monsters.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s up with you?” Sam asked, the question exploding out of him like he’d been waiting ever since Dean came back to ask it.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” I told him, never looking up from my screen. None of these emails were urgent, so I organized them into a separate file to go through later.

“Look, I’m sorry if Dean annoyed you.” Sam said. “Sometimes he doesn’t know when to back off.”

I nodded so Sam would know I heard him, but I still didn’t look up from my laptop. I had half a dozen emails from an LGBT equality group. Some were notifications about petitions going around for various things, some were asking for money to help so and so, but most were just updates.

“You know it’s okay, right?” Sam asked. “To be a virgin?”

THAT made me look at him finally.

“WHAT?”

“Like, you don’t HAVE to have had sex by now.” he said, those puppy eyes watching me. “Dean has no problem sleeping around, but I need to have a connection to someone before I can be intimate with them, and-”

“Okay, stop.” I interrupted. “I don’t CARE that I’m a virgin, okay? That’s not what this is about. Hell, I’d happily go my entire life without having sex.”

“OH.” Sam said, and I could tell by his tone that we weren’t done talking. He’d jumped to some other conclusion that I would now have to steer him away from. Rotting In Vain was currently playing, and I turned it up a little.

“Do you have no...? I mean, I know there’s a term, I just can’t remember it. Like, when you have no sexual desire-”

“Are you asking if I’m asexual?” I interrupted.

“I guess?” Sam nodded.

I didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t that I didn’t have any sexual desire, it was just that I didn’t really care if I ever followed through on it. Plus, I had major trust issues when it came to anything intimate like that, and I didn’t think I’d ever trust anyone enough to let myself be that vulnerable. I didn’t consider myself asexual, just... ace adjacent.

“No.” I answered, I didn’t feel like explaining the whole thing to Sam right now. “I’m not asexual.”

“Then why-” he started, and I snapped.

“Why does it matter!” I shouted, loud enough to make him jump. “I just don’t want to! Why the fuck are you two so fucking interested in whether or not I’ve fucked someone! You just said it doesn’t matter, so leave it the fuck alone!”

In the midst of my yelling, I hadn’t noticed that Rotting in Vain had ended. The next song that came on was one I’d been careful to only listen to while I was alone. I’d missed the first lines, but the ones I heard ripped through me, and I was unable to move.

 

Little child, looking so pretty  
Come out and play, I’ll be your daddy

 

Sam was talking to me now, but I couldn’t really hear what he was saying. A stuttered apology maybe, but I didn’t know. My whole being was focused on the song.

 

Innocent child, looking so sweet  
A rape in my eyes, and on your flesh I’ll eat

 

That heavy feeling was back, and I could feel it forming in my throat and behind my eyes. I blinked and tried to swallow it down, but I couldn’t.

 

You raped!  
I feel dirty  
It hurt!  
As a child  
Tied down!  
“That's a good boy”  
And fucked!  
Your own child  
I scream!  
No one hears me  
It hurt!  
I'm not a liar  
My God!  
Saw you watching  
Mommy why?!  
Your own child 

 

I couldn’t hold it back anymore. A hard, strangled sob exploded out of me, and like a dam had burst the tears followed and before I knew it I was crying hard. Sam was up and at my side in seconds, but he stayed at least three feet away, and didn’t try to touch me.

I ripped the earbud out and threw my iPod across the room. Sam watched it fly with some surprise, but he didn’t say anything about it as he crouched down beside me.

“What can I do to help?” he asked gently.

I shook my head. I didn’t know. This had never happened before. I never cried because of... THAT. If I thought about it too long I would get this horrible, heavy, sinking feeling in my chest, but I’d never actually shed tears over it. I didn’t know why that was.

“Do you want me to leave?” Sam asked, and I shook my head again. Even if I couldn’t stand to have him touch me right now, his presence was comforting. I didn’t want to go through this on my own.

Sam slowly moved to sit on the end of my cot, still a good three feet away. I nodded weakly to let him know that was okay, but I couldn’t make myself talk. My throat ached from the sobs being ripped from it, and any attempt at words just brought more sobs forward. As some point I was aware of Sam getting up and going to the bathroom. He came back with a box of tissues, which I took gratefully.

I don’t know how long I sat there like that, crying hard enough to shake the bed. Sam just sat beside me, never saying a word.

By the time I calmed down, I felt both better and worse. The sinking, heavy feeling was gone, but now I just felt empty. I got up and went to the bathroom to wash my face. It was swollen and red now, and I splashed cold water in it to try and make it less noticeable. I didn’t know why. The only person who was going to see me was Sam, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know I’d been crying. I blew my nose before I left.

Sam was still sitting on my cot when I came back. He looked up at me when I entered the room. There was no judgement on his face, just concern and maybe some curiosity. Neither of us said anything when I came back and sat beside him, a little further away than before. I leaned back against the wall and pulled my knees to my chest. I felt both safer and somehow more exposed that way.

I expected questions, or at least for Sam to move back to the table or his own bed. Neither happened, and we just sat there in relatively comfortable silence for several minutes.

“I was molested when I was four.” I said suddenly. I don’t know why exactly I decided to tell him, but I just felt like I needed to. I saw his back stiffen, and I knew he was listening now, but he didn’t turn to look at me. I appreciated that. I couldn’t do this with him watching me. “Actually, I don’t know how old I was for sure. I might have been five, but I don’t know. It was before we moved, so I had to be younger than six.” I knew I was rambling, but I let it happen. “I was in my mom’s room, trying to sleep. I don’t know why I was there instead of in my room. Maybe I’d had a nightmare, or I was sick. I don’t remember. It was thirteen or fourteen years ago.” I shrugged, even though Sam couldn’t see me. “My mom wasn’t there. I think she was out with a friend, or maybe working late. I was trying to fall asleep, when I heard someone coming down the hall. The door was open a little, so I could see the light from the hall. I turned to see who it was, and I saw my sister and her friend standing there, watching me. I don’t really remember what was said, but...” I trailed off, hating that I was embarrassed. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I was the one who had to deal with the shame now. I made myself continue. “I think... I think I remember my sister telling me it was okay. I think I remember that. Yeah.”

That was more for myself than Sam. I hadn’t remembered that before. I couldn’t be sure if it was true, since memories from that long ago are easy to mess up, but still, it was something more to the puzzle.

“I think... Maybe I said no? I remember feeling a little embarrassed and self-conscience, but I wasn’t scared, and I didn’t think it was wrong exactly. Um, her friend didn’t say anything, I don’t think. She just watched. My, um, my sister... made me masturbate while her and her friend watched.

Sam still didn’t say anything, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I was glad he wasn’t bombarding me with questions, but I also wanted to know what he was thinking. Did this change how he saw me? Did he think I was weak and pathetic for getting so worked up over this? Did he pity me? I kept talking.

“I don’t know how long it lasted. After a while I heard them laugh, and then I think they left. After I just kind of laid there. I didn’t know how I felt about it. It... I used to think it was just that once, but... I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately and... I have memories that don’t fit with the first time it happened. I think... I think it happened at least twice. I think the second time my sister was alone. Or had a different friend over. Like she was... showing me off, or some shit. I don’t really remember, that’s just... kinda how I figure it went.”

Sam was looking at me now, and I ducked my head before I could see his eyes. Whatever was in there, I didn’t want to know yet. I wanted to hold on to the way our friendship had been before this, just for a little longer. I didn’t want to see how this changed things yet.

“The second time it happened...” I started, unable to stop now that I was getting it out. “I know I refused. After the last time, I didn’t want to do it again. I... remember her asking again and again, and I kept saying no. Finally she stopped asking, but... I felt so guilty, like I was disobeying her, or letting her down. I...” I didn’t want to admit this part. “I actually called her back to the room and said I’d do it.”

My thumb was bleeding now, the cuticle ripped to shreds by my nails as I picked at it. A habit I’d picked up from my mom. I focused on the pain, peeling back the skin a bit.

“I never told anyone any of that,” I said, staring at my fidgeting hands. “Not for years. I didn’t know it was wrong until about a year ago. I hadn’t thought about it in so long. After I remembered... I didn’t know if it counted, I guess. My sister and her friend were both only about thirteen or fourteen. I... I thought it was kids being kids, but... I don’t know. I told my best friend and my mom. Later two more of my friends found out. I... I lied and told them all I didn’t remember who it was. I never said that it had been two people, or that it was more than once. I don’t really know why.”

I finally made myself look up and meet Sam’s eyes. There was some shock there, but there was something else. Something softer. Was it pity? Compassion? No. Empathy.

And all at once I wanted to punch myself in the face. Here I was, being all pitiful and pathetic and sorry for myself, barely functioning in most situations when what had happened to me wasn’t even a tenth of what the brothers had been through. Neither of them would talk about it, but I heard their nightmares, I saw their reactions to certain things, I knew the signs. They’d both been to Hell and dealt with the worst of the worst. Dean had been tortured by the Pit Boss himself for thirty years, and Sam... Fuck, Sam had dealt with the literal devil for close to two hundred years. Demons had a lot of reputations, but their lack of concern for consent was one of the more famous ones. Dean and Sam had both been through so much worse, and yet they were still here. Mostly sane, with maybe a drinking problem and a couple bad coping methods, but overall fine. What right did I have to be acting like what had happened to me was the worst thing I’d been through, when I was living with two men who’d been through literal Hell and were still standing? How could I have been so selfish?

“Oh my god.” I gasped, mortified at my selfishness. “Oh my god, why the fuck am I complaining about this to YOU? Oh fuck, I’m an idiot”

Now Sam looked confused, frowning at me as if he was trying to read my mind.

“What do you mean?” he asked, actually sounding worried.

“Sam, I’m sorry,” I rushed. “Here I am bawling about this shit like it was the worst thing ever, when what you went through was SO much worse, and-”

“Don’t do that.” Sam interrupted, gentle but firm.

“But-” I tried, but he shook his head and I stayed quiet.

“No, listen,” he said, turned to face me fully. “Don’t minimize this because I had it worse, okay? Don’t do that.” He shuffled until he was sitting cross-legged on the bed. “Look, there is always someone who has it worse, and that doesn’t mean you can’t feel the way you do about your trauma. What happened to you was sexual abuse. It was wrong. It was traumatic. It was not your fault, and you are allowed to feel traumatized by it. You are allowed to get angry, or cry, or whatever you need to do to get past this, okay?”

I was crying again now, tears of relief running down my face. It felt so good to tell someone all of it, and have them validate how I felt without judgement. Still, I could feel guilt swimming in my gut, waiting for my next moment of self-doubt to strike and bring me back to me knees.

“I...” I couldn’t stop talking about this, now that I knew I had someone who wouldn’t judge me. “I should hate her, shouldn’t I? I don’t... I don’t know why I don’t. I don’t know why I protect her and lie for her. Why don’t I hate her?”

“I don’t know.” Sam answered honestly. “I’ve never been in your place. I can tell you that it’s normal for victims to protect their abusers, but I don’t understand it.”

I hadn’t expected him to have all the answers, but there had been a part of me that had hoped he would. But of course, Sam hated Lucifer. Sam had no reason to protect him. I wished it were that straightforward for me.

“I don’t know why I’m like this.” I said, sobs starting to come more freely now. It felt good. Cleansing.

“Like what?” Sam asked.

“Like... Why do I freak out if people touch me? Why can’t I have sex? Why-?”

“Because you were abused.” he stated gently.

“But no one touched me!” I yelled, finally voicing what I’d been thinking for months now. “No one touched me, so why do I hate being touched? No one raped me, so why can’t I have sex? No one made me me kiss them or cuddle with them, so why can’t I be intimate like that with someone? No one bound me so why do I have nightmares about being tied down? I was abused by two girls, so why am I scared of men?”

I knew I was getting hysterical, and I could see it was scaring Sam, so I made myself take deep breaths until I got myself under control.

“Because you were abused.” Sam said again. “Your triggers aren’t always going to be things that make sense. Here, I’ll give you an example. Ever since Hell and Lucifer, I can’t stand the sound of wind chimes. I have no idea why, but as soon as I hear them I feel like I’m gonna puke, and I’ll start having a flashback, or I’ll get phantom pains or sensations of being touched.”

I didn’t say anything for a while. I still wasn’t totally convinced. Sam must have noticed, because he started trying to reassure me again.

“And it’s normal to be scared of being abused again. I know you have trust issues, so maybe you can’t have sex because you’ve never trusted anyone enough to know that they would stop if you told them to.”

I nodded. It made sense. The theory did, anyway. I knew for a fact that even after dating someone for several months after having known them for years, I was still too terrified to go much further than holding hands. I wasn’t even sure yet if it was something I wanted to try.

I noticed I’d stopped crying.

“It’s gonna take time, and it’s gonna be hard, but you can get past this. I promise. You just have to keep fighting.”

I nodded again. There was such fierce certainty in Sam’s eyes that I couldn’t help but believe him. And if anyone would know, it would be him.

“And you can talk to me whenever you need to. Seriously, never think that you can’t because of what happened to me. I won’t judge you or think you’re being dramatic or any of that shit, okay? If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

I had to look away, blinking rapidly as tears started to burn behind my eyes again.

“Thanks.” I said, my voice raspy from crying. “Listen, um. Don’t... don’t tell Dean, okay?”

Sam nodded right away, but I could see confusion clouding his face.

“Of course,” he said, quick to reassure me. “It’s up to you who you want to tell, but... Can I ask why?”

I was quiet for a second, trying to organize my thoughts. They made sense to me in my own head, but now I had to formulate them for someone else.

“I...” I started, uncertainly. “I know he wouldn’t JUDGE me or any shit like that, but... it would change things. I get that he would try to be supportive, but... he would end up treating me differently. I don’t want that. I don’t want pity, or... to have someone tiptoeing around me like I might break. I just want things to stay the same.”

Sam nodded. I wasn’t sure if he’d ever told Dean about what Lucifer did to him in Hell, but I was guessing no. And I was pretty sure it was for the same reasons.

“And Sam?” I said, a thought hitting me that I should have had a long time ago. “You know you can always talk to me too, right? I know I’m kinda a mess right now, but seriously, if you need to vent, you can.”

Sam looked both shocked and touched. It took a moment for him to respond, and I waited patiently. He cleared his throat, but I could still hear the lump in it when he spoke again.

“Thanks.”

We sat there in awkward silence for a moment, and I was glad when Sam finally broke it.

“Um... So... Can, uh... can I hug you?” he asked.

I was surprised by how much I wanted a hug, and I nodded quickly. The relief emanating off both of us was palpable. I hadn’t been hugged properly by anyone since Cas left months ago, and honestly I was touch-starved. Based on how Sam pulled me into a bear hug, he was too.

We sat there hugging for so long I started to cry again, but this time it wasn’t from shame or anger, it was just raw relief. With each shuddering sob my chest felt lighter, and I started to really believe that I could get past this.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I know this isn't the type of thing I normally post. Thanks to everyone who read it anyway.  
> This might turn into a series later on.
> 
> Feel free to comment


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